It's really been a week for new audiences. Wednesday morning was filled with meetings about a Scots language poetry project in Bo'ness Academy. They lasted longer than I anticipated and ended up running into the afternoon but some extremely useful and exciting stuff came out of them. The project gets going in earnest on Monday; I might say something about it over at The Skraich, time permitting.
In the evening, I scurried off to Edinburgh for the Golden Hour at the Forest. First time I'd ever been at it so I didn't quite know what to expect but I liked what I found. It was packed, for one thing. I haven't seen that many people, let alone that many people under 40, at a live literature and music event for some time. I've obviously been in the wrong place!
Anyway, I was first on, which was good because I was knackered, what with this week's travelling, meeting and being up late preparing for a busy family weekend ahead. But you can always count on the adrenalin to waken you up a bit. And the peppermint tea helped (I know, I live dangerously). Here's what I read:
1) The Invention of Zero
4) 45 Minutes
5) Man With a Dove on His Head
6) The White Dot
7) The Melody At Night, With You
8) In Praise of Dust
It's the aftermath of a pile-up involving Monday's two sets but it worked well and the Golden Hour crowd liked it. I sold one pamphlet, which is respectable, especially as prospective purchasers would have had trouble locating me merging into the books in the corner (the only place near the stage I could find to perch when I arrived). And an audience member sent me a lovely message on Facebook Friday morning saying how much they'd enjoyed it.
Train timetables, tiredness and small children's getting-up times being what they are, I couldn't stick around for the whole night, but I managed to hear most of it. And I really liked what I heard: Beyond the Pale, a five-piece klezmer band; Asazi in a storming acoustic set; short story writer Tracey Emerson; and, of course, the Nite Fite cartoons. All ably compered by Ryan Van Winkle, better known to this blog as the Scottish Poetry Library's reader in residence.